


Cooking 101

by holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)



Series: It's Kinktober 2020, babes [18]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Bad Cooking, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Cooking Lessons, Creampie, Domestic Fluff, Established Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Kitchen Sex, Married Couple, Married Life, Pre-Canon, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, jbbkinktober2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27082357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys
Summary: Jackie convinces Gil to teach her how to cook.---Day 18: In the kitchen
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo
Series: It's Kinktober 2020, babes [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948045
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	Cooking 101

There are two great truths Gil knows about his new wife, Jackie Arroyo — and it makes him grin like a fool every single time he gets to call her that.

One, she’s the love of his life. That’s the first thing he thinks when he sees her in the morning, her hair a mussed mess, her eyes half-lidded with residual sleep rather than lust. She makes his heart race no matter how long they’ve been together. He loves this woman like he’s never loved anyone else before. He wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He wants to have a family with her. He already knows she’ll be an amazing mother, because she’s gotten through to Malcolm, who, at nearly seventeen, is even more blocked off than he was in the months after Gil met him. 

Two, she’s an absolutely horrible cook. It’s almost a talent, honestly. She can burn anything and everything. She’s got a knack for cutting vegetables into the most uneven shapes he’s ever seen, which means that half of them end up mush and the other half crunchy. All of the potholders she owned before they moved in together had scorch marks. She ate more takeout and premade snacks than anyone else he’d ever met.

And Gil went through the police academy. 

Good thing he grew up on his mother’s apron strings. Mama Arroyo taught him everything and anything, especially since he was the eldest. Together, they worked to feed all of his siblings. They cooked from scratch, even made their own tortillas. Gil knew how to make everything from the stews and spiced dishes his father grew up eating in the Philippines to the American cuisine his mother loved. He could make casseroles, burgers, roast chicken, and mac and cheese just as easily as he made chicken adobo. 

His mother had, the one time Jackie insisted on cooking dinner when she and his father visited, taken him aside and solemnly told him he should _never_ let her in the kitchen again. 

Jackie was okay with that. For the most part. She loves Gil’s food. She loves the smells and the tastes he lets her sneak, loves the way he hums as he moves to and fro in the kitchen, loves the way he can dice an onion in no time flat. 

But she also wants to _learn_. Jackie’s stubborn. Cooking is something she should learn, could learn if she could only take it slow. She doubts she’d ever make anything complicated or even as tasty as what her husband could produce, but she wants to be able to make _something_.

Gil loves her enough to brush his mother’s advice aside. (He loves his mother enough to take it slow.)

They start with salads. 

Jackie gives him an unimpressed look when he tells her what’s on the docket, but then she nearly slices her thumb off while trying to cut the head of lettuce into manageable pieces. 

He kisses her bandaged thumb and says they’ll do it again tomorrow.

(And the day after that, and the day after that.)

It takes a week before she’s really ready for anything else. She looks just as unimpressed as she had before when he pulls out a loaf of bread, a hunk of cheddar, the butter, and a box grater. 

“Really, Gil?” she says dryly. “Grilled cheese?”

He pecks her on the cheek. “It’s Malcolm’s favorite,” he reminds her. “If you master it, you can make dinner the next time he’s over.”

That perks her up, and she concedes. 

(She sets off the fire alarm four times.)

Pasta should be easy enough, right? Gil figures he’ll show her how to make a simple tomato sauce from scratch, and they’ll use the fresh pasta he bought at the Italian market that afternoon on his way home from the precinct. It’ll be simple, quick, and tasty. She can’t mess it up _too_ much.

Jackie gives him a sceptical look when he suggests it. This time, however, it’s less unamused and more worried, because she half-expected he’d have given up long before now. Hell, _she_ would have given up if not for the soft smile he gives her as he reassures her that, yes, she can do this, too. Her grilled cheeses are getting closer and closer to a good amount of toasting without being burned.

(Malcolm’s fake grin as he worked through two of them a few days back was endearing if not painfully obvious.

Jackie really owes him a hug or two or three.)

So she lets Gil crowd her against the counter, hands gentle on her own, encouraging but not taking over her movements as she carefully makes long cuts into the half an onion on the cutting board. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs. His breath skates across her ear.

She nearly shudders, biting her lip as she remembers the way he’d taken her apart last night, whispering dirty little things into her ear with every agonizingly slow shift of his hips. She stops cutting in fear the knife will slip.

He soothes her hand with his thumb, likely assuming she’s thinking about their exercise in food tonight. 

Jackie takes a deep breath and completes the dice with even cuts across the onion the other way. 

Gil pulls away so that she can wash her hands. He pushes the diced vegetable into the heated pan, and it sizzles as it hits the oil. “It needs to soften,” he tells her, eyes crinkling as he catches her watching him. 

She can think of one thing she most definitely does not want to soften right now. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and gives him a frazzled smile. 

Which only makes him step closer and pull her into a loving kiss. “You’re doing great.”

The next part is easy. Jackie can use a can opener, and Gil insists that using canned tomatoes is commonplace, that they’re canned at the peak of their season and that he prefers using the canned to the fresh. She dumps them into the pan. They break up easily under the weight of the spatula

Rustic, Gil calls the texture. He seasons it and says it needs to simmer. 

Jackie fills a pot with water for the pasta, carefully listening to Gil’s instructions on how much. She salts it, too, and that takes forever, because she’s overly cautious about adding too much. 

He indulges her then, letting her drag him into a makeout against the counter. The soft, loving kiss gives way to a more sensual one. The kind of kiss that tends to start things. He pulls away, though, to give the sauce a stir and turn on the burner under the water.

She decides that now is the perfect time. The water has to boil before they put the pasta in, which means they have time. Right? So, when Gil turns back to her to continue what they were doing, she gives him a cheeky wink and sinks to her knees on the linoleum. 

“Jackie,” he sputters, eyebrows raising, glancing over at the stovetop.

She pulls his zipper down quick. Reaches in and pulls him out through the fly of his boxers. Licks her lips. 

He curses and grips the counter with both hands. 

She kisses the tip of his cock. She laps at the underside and tongues the slit that begins to leak precome. She takes the tip in and _sucks_. 

He pulls one hand away from the counter to thread through her hair. “Shit.”

She dips her head, taking more of him in. She lets him guide her down until her nose is nestled in wiry curls. She hollows her cheeks and pulls back as he bucks by accident. She plans to lower her head again, to take him in and suck the life out of him, but he pulls her off.

And then hoists her up onto the counter. His hand slips beneath her dress and yanks at her panties until they’re falling down her legs and hanging off one bare ankle. He groans when he finds her sopping wet already. He hauls her close to the edge of the counter, and then he’s bottoming out.

Jackie’s head falls back, smacking against the bottom of the cabinet as she cries out. Her walls ripple around him at the sudden movement. “Oh _god_ , Gil, fuck me.”

He does. He kisses her, filthy and uncoordinated, and pistons his hips with a fervor until he’s coming inside of her with a gruff shout. 

Jackie pants when his fingers slide through her juices and his come to find her clit. Her legs tremble and shake as he drives her right over into a screaming orgasm.

They stay there, holding each other against the counter, for a while.

(The water boils over. The sauce, somehow, is still salvageable. 

Gil kicks her out of the kitchen, and dinner is lovely.)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Kinktober! I'm planning on doing every prompt, so look out for more!
> 
> (Pairings will mostly be slash, fyi)
> 
> Prompt list I'm using can be found here: https://jbbuckybarnes.tumblr.com/post/627189398153363456/kinktober-2020


End file.
